


Dreaming of You

by Mapal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, djinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mapal/pseuds/Mapal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This world isn't Dean's, but that doesn't stop it being perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming of You

**Author's Note:**

> Lol this was... well it started out as a quick one shot, then got longer, then got a bit shorter again as I ran out of steam. I mean I wanted to make it longer but I was worried it'd get out of control and end up being a huge fic... so now it's a one shot still. I'm sorry if it's brief in places I just... I didn't want to do too much with it and I dunno maybe it's shit now or maybe it's great, I dunno.
> 
> I'm really paranoid about my writing at the minute because I got the new laptop and I don't have MS Word so I only have OO Writer and it makes me feel really unproductive? And it makes my writing feel brief and bare and... gosh... I don't know, does that make sense? :/
> 
> Anyway, this is for Team Profound Bond, you beautiful souls. I hope you like it.

   Dean knew something wasn't right as soon as he woke up. He opened his eyes to bright light and a summer breeze wafting in through the open window. Birds chirped nearby and he could hear the ristle of trees. Distantly a lawn mower was whirring away and a dog barked excitedly. The hunter took in a deep breath, staring up at the white ceiling and watching the shadows of the leaves dance across it. This was not a place he recognised.

He slowly turned his head, glad to find he was alone in the king sized bed. The sheets were thrown back, however, and the pillow dented, so clearly he hadn't been alone for long. He let out a long, calming breath and slowly sat up, taking in his surroundings quickly. There was a door opposite him, slightly ajar, and another to the right of the room, open to reveal a bathroom. A large, double-doored wardrobe stood beside that door. There was a chest of drawers next to the window to his left with a single framed photograph on it. Dean squinted his eyes to try to see the two people in the picture, hoping to prepare himself for whoever he was about to deal with, when the door opposite him suddenly opened wide.

He didn't know whether to panic or feel relieved when Castiel walked into the bedroom. At first he was relieved that it was Castiel, alive and well and not in grave danger, but then he noticed the way his torso was bare and he was only wearing sweatpants, the way his hair was still sleep ruffled, and the way he was balancing a plate of toast and a mug of coffee in his hands. “Good, you're up,” the angel breathed as he moved around to Dean's side of the bed.

Dean jumped to one side a little as Castiel went to perch on the edge of the mattress, offering Dean the plate of toast. The hunter stared at it, trying to work out what crazy reality he was in this time. He must have been staring longer than he thought because there was a sudden, frustrated sigh and the plate was being shoved into his hands. “It's just toast, Dean,” Castiel grumbled as he leaned forward to put the coffee on the bedside table.

“This isn't right,” Dean suddenly said, staring down at the food on the plate. At least one thing was normal because he could feel the intense stare of the angel boring into his skull.

“It's toast. Just how you like it, not too done, not too soggy, not bread. What's wrong with it?” Dean's brain wasn't working. His head went fuzzy as soon as he tried to work out what was happening. He frowned and looked up, meeting the puzzled gaze of the angel. It was okay, this was just some crazy world where he lived with Castiel. He would just play along and figure a way out.

“Nothing,” he said with his best attempt at a reassuring smile. He was sure he looked constipated. “It's great, thanks.”

Castiel tilted his head and smiled, and Dean felt his stomach do the strangest flip at the sight of the easy smile on the angel's face. “Good, now eat, drink, and get dressed.” Dean's stomach settled just long enough for it to go cold at the sudden, horrific realisation that he was naked under the sheets. “Sam wants us to meet him for this hunt.” The angel stole a piece of Dean's toast and then he was leaning in too fast for Dean to realise what was happening.

Their lips met briefly and softly, and he had just enough time to register how warm and tender it was before Castiel was drawing away and taking a bite out of the toast as he stood and headed for the bathroom. Dean sat stock still, brain blank, body frozen. This was definitely, certainly not right. Dean felt the panic start to rise in his chest. He wanted to work out why he was in this world, but his brain hurt and his stomach was starting to turn violently.

He heard the shower switch on and quickly scrambled out of bed, mortified to find that his clothes were scattered on the floor. Scattered clothes only meant one thing. He rushed to get dressed, heart pounding violently. He had to find out what was happening. Sam. The realisation suddenly hit him. They were going to meet up with Sam. His brother would know what to do, he always did.

Castiel came out of the shower five minutes later in a towel and with dripping hair, and Dean had to tear his eyes away from the relaxed slope of his shoulders, the water collecting at the bottom of his throat, the droplets clinging to his hair that was desperately trying to go curly. Instead, he hastily made his way out of the room, boots in hand. He was in this world for a reason, and it had to be some crazy, fucked up reason. It was clear to him that he had something going with Castiel in this world. The big question was, why?

Dean shoved the images of the half-naked, wet angel out of his mind and pulled his shoes on at the bottom of the stairs. Apparently they lived in a sizable house, bright and airy compared to the dark, underground feel of the bunker. Was the bunker even still there? Dean frowned and looked around as he pulled the laces tight on his boots. The house was tidy but well-lived in. There was another photograph on the table in the hallway and Dean quickly tied his boots before going to look at it.

It was Sam, Castiel and himself, Dean's arm thrown around the angel's shoulders, Sam laughing, Castiel squeezing his eyes shut as Dean pressed a kiss against his cheek. Dean didn't recognise the background, a lot of trees and grass and what looked like a lake. Something deep inside him twinged at the happiness in the image and Dean had to take a deep breath as he put the frame back down on the table.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Dean span to see Castiel making his way down, pulling on his jacket as he went. For what felt like the hundredth time, Dean's mind went blank. The angel was wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt under a blue zip-up sweatshirt and the dark jacket he was pulling on. He looked normal. “What?” Castiel asked, pausing halfway down the stairs, a curious frown tugging at his brows. Dean realised he had just been staring too hard for too long, but he couldn't look away.

“I just... it's... uh.” He swallowed hard and his heart was pounding again. “You look great,” he said quickly, wondering suddenly why the fuck he had no control over his own mouth. The bright smile that came onto Castiel's face made Dean's embarrassment worth it, however. The kiss that lingered on his lips as the angel suddenly appeared in front of him was not expected, however.

Dean wasn't sure when he buried his fingers in the soft fabric of Castiel's sweater, up under his shirt, or when he started kissing back, but he realised it all too late as the angel drew back and huffed a laugh. “At least you're starting to wake up. I was beginning to think I'd be driving.” Castiel could drive? Dean's brain jumpstarted and he realised that he actually had no idea where he would even be driving to.

“Well... I'm still pretty foggy, y'know? How about you take us there?” he managed to say with an awkward smile, becoming desperately aware that Castiel's hand was still on his waist, the other on his chest, and the angel was still only inches away.

Castiel regarded him for a moment before nodding and slowly slipping away. “Sure, maybe I should just fly us there,” he contemplated as he pulled his shoes out from under the table, or rather the scruffy pair of boots that Dean would never have thought he would see Castiel wearing. Fly? He guessed the angel meant the creepy form of teleportation he did.

“Yeah, whatever,” he sighed. He just wanted to get to Sam and get it all sorted, whatever 'it' was. Castiel straightened up from tying his boots and moved back into Dean's personal space.

“You really are off-colour today,” he mused quietly before he grabbed Dean's shoulders and the world gave a sickening, familiar jolt.

They appeared in the bunker, but they weren't the only ones there. It was full of people, all of them reading or cleaning weapons or grabbing a quick nap in an arm chair. The record player was blasting out an old classic and there was a low murmur of chatter that subsided only for a second as the two new bodies appeared in the room. They all went back to work as if it was normal for an angel to just appear out of thin air.

“Hey, guys, you're early,” came a familiar voice behind them. Dean span to see his brother approaching, duffel bag over his shoulder.

“I'm not sure Dean's safe to drive, so I brought us,” Castiel explained. He was still in Dean's personal space, but at least he wasn't groping him or anything. Who was Dean kidding? Castiel didn't _grope_. That was absurd.

“What's up?” Sam said with a frown, directing his gaze from Castiel to Dean.

“Nothing, just... off-colour,” Dean said with an awkward smile. “Hey, Sammy, can I talk to you? Now?” His little brother eyed Dean up warily before nodding and leading him away to one side into a quiet corner of the room. Castiel went to sit down at the long table, kicking his feet up on an empty chair and watching the two brothers casually.

Sam moved in front of Dean to grab his attention and raised an eyebrow to prompt him. “First, who are all these people?” The frown came straight back onto Sam's face and he looked over his shoulder.

“Hunters, Men of Letters,” Sam said quietly, becoming all the more confused by the second. “Well the hunters won't be here long. Dean, you know this. What's wrong?” Dean took a deep breath and tried not to notice the way Castiel was still watching them.

“I'm not meant to be here,” he whispered.

“What... what do you mean? Of course you are,” Sam said in exasperation.

“No, no I don't mean _here_ , I mean in this world. This isn't my world. Sammy, something bad's happening, this isn't right.” He ran a hand over his mouth and looked at his brother who was now looking more worried than anything else.

“Dean, what are you on about? Everything's fine, this is right.” Dean shook his head violently and felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Dude, I woke up naked in bed, and I was alone but I hadn't been for long, and Cas made me _toast,_ ” Dean rambled as he felt the stab of something he didn't want to name deep down in his gut.

“Jesus, you're not having another crisis, are you? We went through this. You can do it, it's all fine, Castiel loves you despite your stupid commitment issues and it's perfectly fine to be-”

“Fucking hell,” Dean cut in, covering his eyes with both his hands. “We even had a talk about it? Fuck my life, seriously, fuck it,” he hissed. “Sam, this isn't real, okay? This isn't happening. You know how I know it isn't real? Because I'm with Cas, and I'd never be with Cas.” Sam looked wounded at that and threw a glance over his shoulder. The angel was also frowning, the light tapping of his fingers on the table paused.

“Why?” Sam said quietly, looking back to his brother. Dean opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly all the decent arguments died out on his tongue. Why wouldn't he be with Cas? “Because he's a dude? You've been through this with me and him, he isn't really, you know that.” Dean felt his mouth go dry and the panic bubble up in his throat in the form of bile.

This was not his own universe. He locked eyes with the angel from where he was stood and there was definite hurt and pain in them. It was like a knife had been driven into his gut. Sam wasn't going to help him. Of course he wasn't, this wasn't the real Sam, this Sam was designed to keep him in this world. “Yeah, you're right,” he breathed. He needed to play along just a bit longer until he found out how to get out of that world. “Sorry, just... uh... guess I just had a bad dream,” he finished with an awkward smile.

Sam nodded slowly an then lifted the sheef of paper he had been holding all that time. It had a map stapled to the front. “Now you're over your crisis, it's a good job Cas brought you. You need to fly to Colorado and sort out the Buruburu there, the whole town's coming down with ghost sickness and it's getting nasty.” Dean took the thin stack of papers and flipped to the second page. There were images of the deaths, a profile of the ghost, and everything that could possibly be needed for the hunt.

Dean suddenly looked up at Sam. “Wait, you're not coming with us?” Sam gritted his teeth and pulled the first bitch-face of the day.

“You know I don't hunt now. Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

~*~

Dean's body ached by the time they got home. His brain was burning up and he had the mother of all headaches. The Bururburu had been a tough one to beat, and Dean had almost come off a lot worse in a fight with her before Castiel managed to grab hold of her in some bizarre supernatural head lock. He had laid her to rest, healed Dean's injuries with a far too intimate touch to his chest, and then finally flown them back home. And wasn't that just a weird choice of words now? Even Sam was using it. Fly...

“Dean?” The hunter jumped about five feet in the air at the proximity and the suddeness of the voice.

“Yes?” he squeaked, more high pitched than he would ever admit. Castiel's lips quirked in a small smile but he had been quiet and sullen most of the day since Dean's talk with Sam.

“Do we need to talk?” The angel's eyes were soft and sincere, glinting gently in the dim light of the hallway. They hadn't even turned the lights on yet. In the dark, Dean was more aware than ever of the heat radiating from the angel, the gentle hand on his arm.

Every time Castiel got close, something flinched more and more violently inside Dean. He was in this reality for a reason. The last time he had been flung into an alternate reality that had been happy, and he had actually remembered it, it had been one of his wildest dreams. Yet in that world, he sacrificed his closeness with Sam for his mother being reincarnated. This universe was happy, Sam was still there, and then there was this with Castiel. Dean honestly had no idea which part of this was meant to be his wildest dream, but the sickening, warm jolt every time the angel touched him was starting to give him hints.

“No,” he sighed. He wished this Castiel understood and could help, but he was also just an illusion designed to keep him in place. “No, we're good. Sorry.” Castiel finally smiled a little wider, fondness creeping onto his face as he leaned in and pushed their lips together again. This time Dean was ready and was all prepared to let his brain analyse why the hell this was happening, but it short-circuited the minute Castiel tangled a hand in his hair and teased at his lip with his tongue.

There was a breathy moan and Dean thought it was Castiel until there was a deeper, rougher groan against his lips, and he realised that the first noise had been from himself. He sucked in a breath and thought about fighting it for a moment, but there were hands pushing up under his shirt, palms hot against his skin, and he lost the will to think. He kissed back, the only thing he felt like doing any more, and decided he could easily get drunk on the angel's taste.

This was an alternate reality where he was happy with Castiel. There had to be a reason for it. He wrapped an arm easily around the angel's waist and drew him close, their bodies fitting together flush against the wall. Castiel withdrew far too soon for Dean's liking, and the hunter was dizzy and overwhelmed. Was this his wildest dream? “Come on,” Castiel breathed, sliding his hand down Dean's arm to take his hand before leading him towards the stairs.

Dean was numb, his mind blank as he followed the angel. He had pulled enough women to know where this was going. Was he really gay for Castiel? Did he still like women? Castiel squeezed his hand reassuringly and Dean snapped back to reality. They were at the top of the stairs and heading for the bedroom. This was definitely going that way. “I thought I'd give you a treat,” Castiel said over his shoulder, a coy smile playing on his lips.

Dean's mouth went dry and he nodded weakly. What sort of relationship did he have going here? Was it the freaky sort? His distance with Sam had been the nightmare in his last dream, maybe bondage with an angel was the nightmare in this one. Dean didn't have the will to fight as they went into the bedroom and he was immediately up against the door, the hot ball of energy that was Castiel pressing up against him.

He quickly forgot all his worries again as Castiel's lips pressed against his, tongue quick and teasing. It was like Castiel had the ability to make him forget all his hang-ups. This was all just a dream, he could do this. His shirt was being removed. He felt his heart quicken again and he was sure that today would be the day he had a heart attack. Castiel's hands were hot against his skin, exploring every inch of his torso like it was the first time as he tossed the shirt away.

The kiss got quicker and deeper, the curl of arousal in the pit of Dean's stomach pushing him to remove Castiel's sweater and shirt. Castiel pressed their chests together and Dean was sure he would be able to feel his wildly pounding heart. Sure enough, there was a gentle hand against his chest and the angel kissed him a little lighter. “You sure you're okay?” Castiel breathed against his lips. Dean managed a nod because, yes, actually, he was fine. This was fine. So far he could handle it, so maybe it wasn't so bad anyway. He ignored the obnoxious voice in the back of his head and the hardness in his jeans that said this was so much better than _fine_.

Their lips clashed together and Dean gave up completely, driving his tongue into Castiel's mouth and walking him backwards towards the bed. He fumbled for the angel's belt, unbuckling it before unfastening the jeans. Castiel was hastily returning the favour and they just managed to climb out of their jeans before they tumbled back onto the bed. Dean wasn't on top long before he was being flipped easily, the angel's lithe body settling on top of his, Castiel's legs on either side.

Experimentally, he started to run his hands up the angel's sides, drawing a shuddering moan from Castiel. His skin was smooth and his muscles were drawn tight like they were ready to snap, and he didn't feel as strange as Dean thought he would. In fact, Castiel felt damn good. Dean let out a low groan and smoothed his hands down Castiel's back not stopping at the line of his boxers and spreading his hands out over the angel's ass cheeks. Castiel bucked forward and tore his lips away to gasp and then roll his hips against Dean's hands.

“Fuck,” Castiel whispered, and that was possibly the hottest thing Dean had ever heard. This Castiel had picked up a few quirks, and Dean had to say he liked them. Castiel rocked back on Dean's hips, sitting up and trailing his hands down the hunter's chest. He rolled his hips again, rubbing down against Dean's erection, and that was just the best feeling ever. He moved his hands to grip Castiel's hips and the angel let his head fall back as he drew his shoulders back.

Dean almost choked, breath lodging in his throat and heart screeching to a halt as Castiel rolled his shoulders and the biggest pair of black wings Dean had ever seen melted into existence. They unfurled and stretched upwards, too big for the room as the tips of his flight feathers folded up against the ceiling. Dean started breathing heavily as Castiel rolled his hips insistently an then leaned down to place a kiss to his lips. The angel had wings. Real wings. There were real wings and Dean could hear the feathers rustling as they shook out and folded down.

His hands trembled as he slowly slid them up the angel's back, anticipation tripping through his system with every inch he covered. He had to touch them. Every fibre of his body was telling him to touch them. It seemed like an age as Castiel kissed down his jaw and Dean's fingers crept higher. He watched over Castiel's shoulders as he finally made contact with the soft, downy feathers that covered the angel's shoulders and the wings flared out to either side again. Castiel whined against Dean's shoulder as the hunter continued to explore, smoothing his hands up through the sleek, black feathers, running over the strong muscle structure that led up from Castiel's shoulders.

Was this really the life he had in this world? He was sleeping with an angel who had _wings_? Wings that he let Dean touch? Castiel set up a rhythm with his hips against Dean's, trying to get any sort of friction he could against his arousal. He was whining and moaning against Dean's skin as the hunter pushed his fingers deep into the feathers and trailed down towards the tips, and they were just the best noises ever. This was just the best experience ever.

Castiel suddenly started moving, slipping out of his boxers and tossing them aside before he returned the favour for Dean. The cool air of the bedroom against his erection made him arch up gently against the angel and let out a sharp breath. He was more than ready for this, he realised. His body was heating up and his heart was racing, and his penis was harder than it had probably ever been and his hands were buried in the softest feathers he had ever felt. “Cas?” he panted against the angel's shoulder as Castiel attacked his throat with hot, damp kisses. He heard Castiel hum in acknowledgement but not once did his lips leave Dean's skin. “Uh... fuck... shit... uh... can we please just-”

The angel laughed and sat back again, languidly rocking his hips so their erections slid together. Dean was the one to whine this time, one hand flying to Castiel's hip to encourage him as the other tugged gently on the tips of the feathers closest to his body. The angel moaned and pressed his hands to Dean's chest. “I think so,” he suddenly said breathlessly before he leaned over towards the bedside table.

He produced the small, clear bottle and didn't hesitate to tip it up and start pouring the liquid onto his palm. The hunter watched as the angel reached down and smoothed it over Dean's erection, the first cool touch making him jolt and buck up. Castiel's fingers were slick and cold from the lubricant but they felt so damn good. Dean rolled his head back into the pillow and cursed loudly. He was so going to Hell. He just realised he was so damned it was unbelievable.

Castiel was moving again, tossing the bottle aside as he rocked forwards onto one arm, the other still wrapped around Dean. The hunter's eyes widened a little as he managed to think through the fog of pleasure. “Shouldn't you prepare or- oh fuck,” he hissed as Castiel directly ignored him and lowered himself smoothly. It was hot and tight and Dean thought he would pass out because nothing was allowed to be that painful and yet feel so good.

“Angel,” Castiel breathed against his ear. He was panting slightly but he was still sliding down, taking all of Dean, his muscles quivering. Dean could feel him tensing and relaxing, slowly taking in his full length. His brain was full of white noise and he was wondering if this was a reality he really wanted to leave or not. “You forget, it does... come in useful for... some things,” Castiel managed to say before he let out a moan that officially finished off Dean's brain and sent a high-voltage shock through his whole body.

He was all the way in, finally giving Dean the full meaning of _balls deep_. Castiel's clean hand was smoothing down Dean's chest but he wasn't moving, his breath coming out sharp and fast. He had his head buried against Dean's shoulder and Dean wasn't sure if he wanted the angel to move or if he wanted this to last forever. He decided that maybe things could feel better, if that was possible, if they started to move.

At the first curious roll of Dean's hips, Castiel gasped a moan and remained where he was, but at the second the angel slowly sat up and rolled with it. Dean was actually doing it. He was having sex with a dude. The best part was, he really didn't care, because it was the best sex he had ever had and so far they had hardly done anything. He reached forward to guide Castiel's hips with his hands and the angel braced himself on his arms as he started to move with each of Dean's thrusts.

Each stroke got longer and more forceful, Castiel nearly riding all the way to the tip of Dean's erection before slamming himself back down. He was loosening up and things were moving easier, and those damn perfect wings were flexing with each swift bounce. Dean reached up with one hand to bury his fingers up under one wing, digging into the sensitive feathers there. Castiel let out a strangled moan and moved faster, and Dean let his hips drop to the bed as he finally lost pace with the angel.

Castiel was an expert. He must have done this before, and Dean was betting it was with him. This was a regular thing. This was what happened here. The way the angel rolled his hips to push Dean up against the sweetest spot, the way he bit lightly against Dean's neck just the way he liked it and the way he played with himself expertly whilst riding Dean like a pro, it all suggested that this really was Dean's life.

He had the perfect partner, who just happened to be an angel riding around in a dude, and the perfect house. Sam was happy and still in the life without being dragged around all over the country doing something he didn't want to do, and Dean was still hunting with his angel at his side. What was possibly wrong about this universe? There was nothing. Before he learned that if he had his mother, he sacrificed everything he had with Sam. This time, there was no moral. It was perfect.

Dean cried out and batted Castiel's hand away so he could actually do something of use, wrapping his fingers around the angel's erection and stroking his firmly and swiftly. _Damn,_ Castiel was well-hung, too. Dean was soon reminded just how long it had been since he had last done anything. He might have been busy in this universe, but in he was left to his imagination and his right hand. His breathing was heavy an he could feel the tension of his arousal pooling hot and heavy in his gut. He wasn't going to last long, especially if Castiel kept rolling his hips like that.

“Shit, Cas, I'm gonna-”

“Me too,” Castiel cut in, arching his back upwards and flaring his wings out to either side as he slammed his hips down with force again and again. Dean kept stroking him, feeling his head starting to go light and blank. He had to say he was not prepared for the angel's orgasm. Outwardly, nothing happened, but Dean felt a sudden surge of energy rush through his entire body. It was possibly the most bizarre yet incredibly feeling he had ever had, and it went straight to his groin and made him lose his mind in a split second. He barely registered the loud, shameless cry above him, and a deafening moan that might have been his own, as he released in the most epic orgasm of his life.

He didn't even care that Castiel had come all over his stomach because it felt like all his bones had been removed from his body. “Holy fuck,” he breathed as the angel collapsed on top of him. Castiel chuckled lowly against Dean's chest and folded his wings down slowly. Dean got the joke a few seconds later, his mind stumbling over it before he realised that, yeah, actually that had been pretty funny.

They lay panting and worn out for several long minutes before Castiel moved, wincing as Dean slipped out, unpleasantly soft. The mildly disgusted expression was soon replaced with an easy smile as he leaned up to place a kiss on Dean's lips, and that was another totally new kiss. It was soft and warm and full of emotions that Dean didn't even want to try to analyse. It was so many unspoken words that maybe didn't even need to be said out loud when a kiss said so much.

It was then that Dean realised that the sex might have been purely amazing, but this wasn't about the sex, not one bit. He started to question why he had felt the incredible pulse of energy, why he felt every emotion that Castiel was pouring into the kiss, and he started to realise that this was something more. The sensation that had been tugging at him all day was Castiel, linked to him in a way that Dean couldn't describe. Dean cautiously tried to open himself up, wondering if the tension of the day had muted the sensation. He was right.

Castiel let out a small, pained noise against Dean's lips as something between them broke down and everything surged forward like a dam had burst. The faint traces of hurt and worry from Castiel were soon overwhelmed by warmth and relief and so many other emotions all clamouring together. They were all Castiel's. Dean could pick them all out, rushing through his head, and he knew they weren't his own emotions. He gently tangled his fingers in Castiel's hair, smoothing his other hand softly over the arch of the angel's wing, and felt him relax fully.

No, this was definitely something more. He let out a long, calming breath and closed his eyes as the angel curled his wings down to press against Dean's side and cuddled up closer to him. Everything Dean was feeling, from the pang of want to the raging disappointment that this was an illusion, was real. He was the only real thing in this world. The emotions he was feeling now towards the fake yet oh so real Castiel he was holding were real. So very painfully real.

His eyes flew open, a fleeting image pushing its way into his brain that was definitely not from this world. He saw a flash of blue eyes, the flicker of fire, and something deep and uncomfortable settled inside him. This was perfect, but it wasn't real, and he knew, he just knew, that the real Castiel was in trouble. It was tickling every part of him, pushing discretely at the edges of his mind. “Dean?” He jumped and looked down at the angel that was curled up on top of him, watching him curiously. “What is it?” Dean forgot that this angel could feel the sudden sense of panic and worry that had just flooded into him.

Dean also knew that this angel would try to stop him as soon as he went to leave this world, because something had just made him realise exactly what was happening. There was a sharp flash of something in his mind, vivid panic and wild terror that was certainly not from this world. _Dean!_ And that was Castiel's voice, but not this Castiel, and it was loud like a bell in his head. This Castiel would stop him, because Dean had been hunting a Djinn. He put up every defence he could inside his mind, pushing Castiel out as he slowly sat up. “It's nothing,” he breathed, but it was too late, far too late.

There was a dangerous look on the angel's face and Dean felt the panic start to rise higher. He knew that he wouldn't be seriously hurt, he didn't know how he knew that but he was sure of it, but that didn't stop him being terrified as Castiel stretched out his wings and the room grew dark. Dean didn't think any more as he suddenly jumped up from the bed, unseating the angel, and darted towards the door.

He predictably didn't get far before he was being slammed to the floor. He gasped for the air that had been knocked out of his lungs and tried to scramble to get up, but he couldn't move. “You don't want to leave,” Castiel breathed as he pinned Dean down. His eyes were blank and dangerous and it scared Dean more than anything. This wasn't his angel. “If you leave, you go back to him, and he won't see you like I see you. You won't have any of this.” Dean was well and truly stuck and the terror was rising up to breaking point. He needed to get out.

“How do you know?” he choked out. How did anyone know? Dean had been an ignorant dick. He would never know how the real Castiel felt while he ignored his own feelings.

The fake Castiel above him let out something that sounded very familiar to a growl and landed a punch against Dean's jaw. A second later there was a loud bang that shook the whole house, shattering the windows. The angel on top of him startled and looked around, wings flaring out defensively. Dean scrambled to his feet, clutching his jaw, taking full advantage of the angel being distracted.

There was another loud bang, this time more violent, and Dean was moving as fast as he could out of the room. Another bang, coming faster than the last and nearly sending Dean flying down the stairs. He ran for the kitchen, hearing the angered cry of fake Castiel behind him. Another bang and the angel that appeared before him was sent toppling to the floor, Dean jumping over him and heading to the kitchen drawers. _Wake up!_ He didn't even reach the drawers before there was a final, disastrous bang and the world around him exploded in a flash of white.

He went flying, engulfed in the disorientating light as he was flung upwards, like he was being dragged out of the depths of the ocean. He tried to gasp for air but he couldn't. It felt like something was trying to drag him back down but it was unsuccessful, the force that was pulling him out of that world being stronger than anything that was trying to hold him in.

Dean jolted awake, gasping and choking and immediately aware of the searing pain up his back and in his shoulders. Everything was dark and blurry and he felt like someone had filled his head with cotton wool. His arms were chained above his head and the metal was digging into his wrists, but the first thing he became aware of was the pair of worried blue eyes right in front of him. “Cas?” He faintly saw the relief wash over the angel's face and the gentle nod, but he was more focused on the blood running down Castiel's forehead and into his eyes, the strains on his shirt and the cut on his lip. “What happened?”

He was ignored as the angel unhooked him from the chains and gently lowered him down to the ground. Dean clung to him, curling up towards the warmth of his body as he began to shiver. Castiel sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting him press right up against him. “Cas, what happened?” Dean repeated quietly. He could see the angel's shirt was torn and stained and worry started to creep back into him.

“We were ambushed,” Castiel said gently. “Luckily your brother arrived.”

Dean became aware of the large presence of his brother crouching next to them. “It was a trap, the demons were using a Djinn to lead us in and capture Cas,” Sam explained quietly. Dean let out a tired sigh and nodded before turning his head and burying it against Castiel's chest. The angel stiffened for a moment before slowly relaxing. Dean didn't remember anything else before he finally passed out, his brain taking the welcome break it had been waiting for for what seemed like days.

~*~

When Dean woke up again, he was pleased to find he was in his own room at the bunker. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes before rolling over to see Castiel sat in a chair next to the bed. The angel straightened up when he noticed Dean was awake and watching him. “Hey,” Dean said with a sleepy smile, stifling a yawn as he patted the edge of the bed. Castiel frowned at him for a moment and Dean rolled his eyes. “Just sit on the goddamn bed,” he muttered.

The angel slowly obeyed, moving to sit next to Dean as the hunter sat up and stretched his arms out above his head. “How long have I been out?” he asked as his arms dropped back to his sides.

“Not long, just overnight,” Castiel answered, watching Dean in that usual, unabashed way he did, regardless of the fact that Dean was shirtless, a bandage tied around his torso. “Sorry I couldn't heal you fully, apparently I'm limited in my abilities and I used a lot of energy trying to break through.”

“That was you?” Dean gingerly touched the wound on his side through the bandage and was glad to find that it wasn't too bad, just a relatively deep cut. Castiel nodded gently.

“I thought Sam wasn't going to come, I needed you to wake up but I was trapped, so I reached out as well as I could until I could get to you,” he sighed.

They fell silent and Dean let his gaze sweep down over Castiel for a moment. The memory of the fake Castiel was still strong in his head, along with the storm of emotions that went with him. This Castiel was different, still rigid and still in that stupid suit, but this was Dean's Castiel. He wondered if he could maybe get the angel to relax like the one in his dream land. He knew now that it had been a play on his deepest desires, that it had shown him what life could be like in the amazing fantasy world the Djinn created for him, and he wanted to recreate it. More than anything he wanted that back.

Castiel let out a sharp, startled breath as Dean reached up to grab his chin gently and turn his head towards him before gently smoothing his fingers up to cup the angel's face. “You know, I had the weirdest dream,” he mumbled, letting his thumb sweep over Castiel's cheek bone. The angel frowned lightly at him but didn't move away. “You know the Djinn give you everything you want so you never want to leave... screwed up last time but damn... this time it was right,” he chuckled gently.

“There might be some long-lasting effects,” Castiel muttered. Dean snorted and didn't think again before he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Castiel's and hoping for the best. If this didn't work, he'd mourn that perfect world forever.

The angel was rigid and frozen in place and Dean almost gave up before Castiel let out a small, desperate noise and he was kissing Dean back, rough and needy. Yes, this was definitely what Dean wanted. It was never going to be perfect like the Djinn's world, but this was still perfect in its own way. He wrapped an arm easily around Castiel and pulled him until the angel was half laid on top of him, hands either side of Dean's shoulders.

They separated to breathe and Dean let his eyes open to see that Castiel still looked startled and almost petrified. “I guess I realised a lot while I was in that world,” he sighed. “Guess I realised I was an idiot.” Castiel's look of panic softened a little and he smiled. “Can we try this, please? I mean I might not be perfect or anything and it might be hard but I-” Castiel cut off his rambling with a warm, soft kiss and Dean was glad to feel the angel's shoulders relax.

They could do this. Dean was sure they could. He kissed Castiel with everything he had and silently thanked the Djinn for knocking some sense into him. He hadn't known he had wanted this until he was forced to realise it, and now he thought he'd never look back again. They could really do this.


End file.
